Awakening of Spring
by Miss Pontmercy
Summary: In the month before their wedding, Cosette begins to understand one of the greatest mysteries a proper young girl faces. After discovering her own desire, Cosette turns to Marius for more explanation.
1. Explain, Please

Cosette was having some sort of fit. Or she was sick. She was in the throws of something, that was sure.

It wasn't a new feeling, but never before had it been so strong. In the middle of the night, lying in her little white bed, Cosette felt her skin burn. It was a delicious feeling. Earlier in her life, when Marius kissed her the first time or when she heard bawdy talk, she'd felt hints of this fire. They were flickers beneath her skin, a dull ache between her legs. Earlier today, when her father had left the room, Marius had gripped her waist and kissed her in a way he never had before. He pressed himself close to her and then walked her back until she was leaning against the wall. His body was tight to hers, and he opened her mouth with his tongue. She'd gasped, and he gripped her chin and pulled her face even closer. A raw moan grumbled in his throat, and she felt a sudden jolt in the base of stomach, sending a rush through her until it landed, like lightening, between her legs. She'd gasped and pushed him away, breathing heavy. Marius apologized, assuming her shock was in reference to his behavior, and not the reaction he had spurred within her body.

And now, late at night and alone, she let her mind wander further than she'd ever let it before. Her breasts ached, and she hesitated before touching them, as if it would feel silly. But immediately the fire deepened and she knew she'd done the right thing. The ache worsened between her legs. She rolled onto her stomach and pressed herself against the mattress.

"Marius," she whispered into her pillow, moving faster, alone and imagining him in flashes of skin and hands, unaware of what it was she wanted but knowing she wanted it. "Oh, God, Marius..."

* * *

The next day she felt a cloud of shame around her. She felt older. For the past few years, she had known there was something in the world that she did not know about. It was an important thing, and it was hidden in the talk of strangers on the street, in married working-class women joking with each other, in the eyes of men. But it never presented itself to her, and she knew it inappropriate to ask. Her father never spoke of any women in his life, and Marius was so careful with her, so respectful and reserved.

But the night before, she felt like she finally understood something. That was it, wasn't it? The secret all the men knew? It was there in her skin, the lightening between her legs, the moisture there, the vulgar way she moved her hips against the mattress. It was the compulsion she felt, the way her body knew exactly what to do.

Marius was due to pick her up for a wedding. Not their own, unfortunately - one of Grandfather's friends was hosting a wedding for his granddaughter, and Marius and Cosette were going.

She selected a gown with great care, choosing one that grandfather had given her made of bright blue silk. It was done in the fashion of his generation, which was back again in style (especially after a trip to a tailor). The gown hung prettily off her shoulders, leaving her neck and clavicles bare. In a fit of rebellion, she asked Nicolette to do her corset tighter than usual (and ignored her protests), so the neckline of the dress would expose more cleavage than usual. It was not at all immodest, merely fit the fashion of the gown - but Cosette never wore such gowns, and felt very elegant when she walked down the stairs.

She caught herself in the mirror and her stomach tightened. She looked beautiful, it was clear. With satisfaction she turned to the side and saw her breasts swell out. Upon a second look, she picked up her shawl and wrapped it around herself. She wasn't sure if she was exhilarated or frightened.

* * *

Cosette was glad for the shawl when Marius picked her up. Even with it, he turned red upon seeing her so dressed up. He never was good at hiding his emotions - or whatever this feeling was, if not an emotion - and Cosette blushed, noticing her father's eyes on Marius' face. Still, now that she knew a bit more, Cosette's heart pounded when she realized what she was making Marius feel.

In the carriage, she felt her palms sweat. Marius pressed his knee to hers.

"My love, you look so beautiful."

"Thank you," she said. Turning to look out the window, she removed her shawl.

The atmosphere in the carriage was overwhelming. It was such a small enclosed space; the driver was outside. Neither of the lovers noticed the cold air. In a slow movement, Cosette turned her head to face Marius.

He snapped his eyes up from her breasts, cheeks aflame. "I, um-"

Costa turned brilliantly red, and looked down at her clasped hands.

Marius touched her face with his fingertips, tracing down her neck. "You are so beautiful." His voice was soft and deeper than usual. Costa felt the quickening in the pit of her stomach and recognized desire in his tone. She faced him once more and said nothing, merely held his gaze feeling the blood course through her body, until her breasts ached and her mouth went dry. She tipped her chin up toward him.

"Oh, God." Marius' words were half grunt. He crossed the space between them and covered her mouth with his.

Cosette let out a little groan.

"I'm sorry - oh, my love, I'm sorry." Marius broke away. "I shouldn't - I'm upsetting you, aren't I? Oh God I don't know what's gotten into me lately."

He buried his face in his hands. "Cosette, I can't control myself around you. It was easier, before. But the closer we get to our marriage, the harder..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Cosette swallowed. She took Marius' hand. There was so much she wanted to ask him. He was a man, he must know all of it, even if he never hinted. But how to broach the subject? What if she said something that put him off? It was hardly modest behavior to ask such things, it wasn't ladylike, and she knew Marius loved how innocent she was, how sweet.

 _I am sweet,_ she thought, knowing that was the word for her behavior toward birds and flowers and the way she liked to dote on the men in her life. _Does this mean I cannot be sweet anymore?_

She must have seemed preoccupied, for Marius squeezed her hands.

"Please, my love, tell me what you are thinking. I'm in agony thinking I've hurt you."

She shook her head. "That isn't it, dear."

He studied her face, looking as if he didn't believe her.

Cosette kissed his cheek. "I promise I'm not offended."

The carriage pulled up outside of the wedding. Marius looked like he wanted to ask her more, but they had to rest the topic while he helped her out onto the street and into the church.

* * *

Much later, after the ceremony, they arrived at the reception. Cosette had to give up her favorite spot on Marius' arm in favor of Grandfather's. He escorted her into the house with Marius trailing behind, introducing her to the guests. Cosette accepted a glass of champagne and sipped it, enjoying the way the bubbles made it different from wine she typically drank.

There was a great deal of food, there were some toasts, there was dancing.

"I haven't been to many of these," Cosette remarked when she was back again in Marius' arms, glad for the excuse to press herself closer to him than she could in ordinary life, "But I am getting comfortable with this."

She rested her head on his shoulder. Marius, swollen with pride, gripped her waist.

"As am I," he said. "Though I don't care much for when we have to dance with other people."

"Perhaps that will be easier after our wedding," Cosette remarked, her face close to his. "When we will have plenty of time alone, and won't need a dance in order to press together."

As soon as she spoke, Cosette's eyes widened in horror. She hid her face in his coat. Marius, red as a beet, continued to lead them until they reached the door to the balcony. For a moment, he resisted - the gentleman in him wanted to ignore her comment and redirect the conversation back to appropriate grounds. But the man in him needed to know why Cosette had said such a thing, and was thrilled beyond measure to imagine his future wife fantasizing of their conjugal life. There was little debate. He opened the door and directed them outside.

"Love," he said. "Look at me."

Cosette hesitated, but obeyed.

Marius looked into her beautiful eyes. When he spoke, his voice was so soft and familiar that Cosette was hit with another wave of understanding: the impassioned feelings of the previous night were part of the secret, but there was more. Her Marius would be the one with her, and all that they were: the laughing, their friendship, the sweetness of their love would all mix in with the mysterious act of the flesh they would commit together. Somehow, this made it seem so much better.

"Was this what you wanted to ask about, in the carriage?" he whispered. For his part, Marius was trying to contain his excitement. It had begun with the sight of her breasts, swelling over the neckline of her gown, smooth and large and inviting his mouth while reality screamed, "No, hands off!"

Cosette could not answer, but she nodded.

"My love..." Marius would never be able to understand why this woman had undone him so completely. But everything she did, from smoothing a runaway hair to kissing him, drove him to the highest throws of desire. But his own inexperience and modesty hindered his handling of the situation. He was embarrassed, as was she, and neither knew what to say. If he was more confident, and less respectful, he would have recognized that he could have gotten her into bed that night, a month shy of their marital union. But instead he said, "What do you want to ask?"

Cosette shook her head. Marius could kick himself - she was so pure, so innocent, he was betraying that.

But then he looked down... Oh, God she was so beautiful.

"Did you wear that dress... for me?" he whispered.

Her cheeks reddened, but then she nodded once more. Marius let out a little moan.

"Marius, you... like it?"

"Yes," he said. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth. "I've never seen you so..."

"Yes."

"It's nice."

"I wanted to know if you would notice."

"I noticed. Of course."

"Have you thought of me... this way?" she asked.

Marius was bewildered. "Of course. Why I've always told you how beautiful you are."

"You know what I mean," Cosette said.

"Are you asking if I've thought of you... of us..." Marius couldn't finish the sentence. He squeezed Cosette closer to him.

"Yes," she said, breathless.

"I tried not to, for months," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "It was easier, in the Rue Plumet. I was so excited to be with you. I was so in love with you, every part of my soul was falling in love with you with every moment we spent together. But now..."

Cosette kissed him.

"Now," Marius said, their mouths still very close together, "Every part of me loves you. My heart, my soul. And you love me too, heart and soul, and we've shared words and kisses... The only part of our love that hasn't been consummated is our bodies'."

He kissed her again, deeply. "You ask if I've thought of you, our bodies together? I think of it every night. I can hardly banish the thoughts when you sit, paces away from me, in my grandfather's living room. I dream of you, I..."

Marius stopped, fearing he had said too much.

"I think of you too," Cosette said.

Marius balked. "You do?"

"I don't even know..." She hid her face. "I have no idea what happens. I've wanted to ask you so long, my love, but it's so embarrassing. I didn't want to do anything improper, but I wanted to ask you everything. I need you to tell me."

"But you think of me?" he pressed.

"Last night I..." She thought of telling him, and looked at his face - he was hanging on her every word - but backed off. Perhaps one day they would be familiar enough, but not yet. "I desire you, my love. But I don't know what I desire."

"Do you want to know?"

She nodded.

Marius looked away, thinking, and then looked back. "Come with me. I have an idea."

* * *

The plants in the rue Plumet were all dead, but the place held a holy peace even with frosted grass and bare branches.

"It's eleven. We have twenty minutes before we must get a carriage to get you home," Marius said.

"I don't have a key," Cosette said.

Marius looked dubious. "Love, you are with me, remember? The man who broke into this garden for months?" He pushed aside the broken bar.

Cosette laughed. Her stomach leapt and she felt the familiar feeling of rebellion. She'd gotten her first taste last spring, and here she was, back with Marius in their beloved garden, where she once more was defying orders. Marius' hand was hot in hers.

Under the guise of the cold, they sat quite close on their bench.

"You want to know?" he asked her.

She looked away. "I want to know anything you wish to tell me. I trust you. You decide, my darling Marius, you make the decision."

He hesitated, before resting his head against her shoulder. It was impossible to look at her while saying this, he would lose nerve. But when he rested his face there, her hair lay against his face and he smelled the sweetness of her curls and her neck. He was hard as a rock in his trousers, had been since her comment on the dance floor. If she asked him one more question, or told him again that she desired him, those heated words coming from her sweet mouth, he would crack. He was just a few steps away from gripping her hand and placing it over himself.

"It's called... making love," he said. "It's how men and women come together. We'll be one in spirit, as I'm sure you've heard, but we will also be one in body."

She pushed his head up. "I want to be yours, Marius. One with you, yours, whichever."

He looked away once more, rested his head back down. "After our wedding, we will go to our room. Nicolette will not undress you, I will." He dug his fingertips into her waist as a wave of heat rushed over him. "We will lay together in the bed we share. I'll kiss you, much the way we kissed tonight. Was that..."

"Wonderful," Cosette sighed. "It was wonderful."

Marius closed his eyes. "I'll touch your body, my love, everywhere. I can hardly..."

Abruptly, he stood and turned away, shaking out his hands.

Cosette sat back as if having been burned. "Marius!"

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "I..."

"Oh, what have I done?" she whispered. "Marius, I'm so sorry."

"No." Marius turned around, and held up a calming hand. "You did nothing wrong, you merely asked... I am getting carried away, Cosette."

"Should we stop?"

Marius counted to ten in his head, breathing deeply. "I think we should."

Cosette nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I am shaking with desire, look at my hands - it's not your fault you drive me this way. You simply exist, and it sends me into a state."

Cosette grinned. "I know all about that. You do the same to me, Monsieur."

He doubted it, but smiled and held out a hand to her. "Come, love, let's go. It's time to take you home."

In the carriage, Cosette rested her head on his shoulder. They were very quiet, but has their hands laced together.

"I am glad I could ask you," Cosette whispered. "Even if we couldn't talk about it."

Marius kissed her head. "I love you."

"I am glad I don't have to be shy with you," Cosette said. "Thank you, husband. I am so lucky."

"I wish I could better answer your questions," Marius said with a laugh. "You see what the mere thought does to me."

Cosette didn't respond, but pressed his hand.

He leaned close to her ear. "I want you to know I've never... I've never been with anyone else, Cosette. I don't know what you've heard, but most men have been with other women by the time they marry. But I was waiting for my wife, for you. You're the only one, for me."

Cosette looked up, eyes wide.

"Cosette, I may have heard a bit more than you, but I think it's all hearsay until you've done it. Or so it seems." He stroked her cheek. "So we'll both find out together."

"I wish I was your wife tonight," Cosette sighed.

More than anything, Marius wished so too. He also wished to know what she had done, the night before, when she thought of him. He wanted to ask, but could not bear to. Besides, he could feel Cosette growing tired and perhaps overwhelmed. He didn't want to ask her too much, and risk seeming fixated.

But Marius had misinterpreted her silence.

"Maybe you could..." She trailed off.

"What's that, darling?"

Cosette sat up. "Maybe you could write it all down?"

He imagined Cosette, dressed in her nightgown, reading such a letter in her bed. He'd never seen her bed, but could imagine it - he'd done so many times.

The carriage approached her apartment. The lights were on - Monsieur Fauchelevent was doubtless awake. Marius opened the carriage door and walked Cosette to the threshold. Just before she pulled out her key, she looked up at Marius, waiting for an answer.

"I'll have a letter for you tomorrow," he said, mouth dry. "Be very careful not to let anyone see."

Cosette blushed, and then unlocked the door. She could feel her pulse strong while Marius spoke to her father, and then exchanged a glance just before he left, when they both clearly had the same thoughts on their minds. When she readied herself for bed, she thought of all that transpired that evening, proud of herself and feeling more of a woman than ever before.

* * *

 **Reviews are appreciated.**

 **Thanks, loves. Glad to be back writing for my favorite couple.**


	2. The Letters

Marius could not continue. The blank page taunted him while he tried to plan the words . He'd gotten ahead of himself twice already - the discarded pages lay crumbled next to him, ready to the thrown into the fire. He was exhausted, but he wanted to explain things properly for his beloved.

When he knew he was going to marry Cosette, Marius saw his life before him. Summed up in a series of gestures, it would look as thus: Cosette walking ahead of him, gazing at the sky, weaving between bushes and looking at flowers, pointing at things and calling back to him. Marius would follow behind, book in hand, admiring the speed at which she saw beauty everywhere. In practice, he knew Cosette would manage certain things for him. She would organize their social calendar and make sure he did not huddle too deep into his studies. She would laugh and keep him happy. For some reason, he made her happy. He would make certain big decisions if necessary, but mostly they could exist in a kind of peaceful harmony.

This was the kind of big decision she could not make. Writing this letter was his first act of guidance as her husband. And Marius, who took nothing lightly, was agonizing over the execution.

 _My dearest, Cosette,_

There he stopped.

The first discarded letter had been too clinical, too cold. He had explained the act to her in the terms he'd learned it as a child. When he reread it, imagining his lover, it made him cringe. He was going to be her husband. They were always so tender with each other now, and he wanted that to continue in their marriage bed. It would be unfair to let his embarrassment creep into her first impression of lovemaking, leading her to believe it a compulsory and shameful act.

So when he began the second time, Marius explained it the way he imagined it would be and did not hold back. He described how he dreamed of her every night. He explained his body to her, then wrote an entire paragraph on the part of her that consumed his thoughts nightly. _I will fit myself inside of you, my love - God, in my head it is heaven and I know it will only be better in person. I want to kiss your entire body, bury myself in you. I want to hear you gasp and watch your face twisted with pleasure. Once we're married I'll take you every day, Cosette, and you'll want it. You'll be asking for me to do it harder, and faster. I'll kiss your sweet, sweet little cunt and spill myself inside of you._

That was clearly wrong. Marius had stopped writing halfway through and opened his trousers. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and touched himself imagining her reading his words and growing aroused. As soon as he came, he looked at the words and crumpled the page. Ridiculous. He couldn't send her that, she'd be terrified.

Now, letter three. _My dearest, Cosette,_

Marius looked at the rest of the blank page before sighing and blowing out the candle. It was impossible.

He picked up the crumpled papers and, just before throwing them in the fire, stopped. With a glance at each one, he threw the clinical one into the fire and left the dirty one onto his bedside table. It had been quite a nice fantasy.

* * *

The following day Cosette was drinking tea with Grandfather and Marius. They sat in the parlor under the large windows, a shawl around Cosette's shoulders reminding Marius of the way she'd removed it the night before. As Grandfather talked, Marius drank his tea with a surprising speed just to keep himself occupied. Cosette remarkably composed, sitting with good posture on the blue satin settee, not betraying an inkling of the conversation she and Marius had shared in the rue Plumet the night before. Marius, who felt his face growing red and heard himself laughing too loud, knew he was suspicious. Grandfather was unconcerned - "Marius, you should go rest, you look tired," was all he'd said. At that, Cosette sent Marius a commiserating glance. His heart skipped a beat. Once more, they had a secret.

"I think it would be lovely to go to the ballet," Cosette mused. Grandfather had been telling a story about a mistress of his who had danced many of the main roles. Marius shook his head at Cosette, unbeknownst to the old man. Cosette giggled.

"Have you never been, my dear?" Grandfather asked, astonished.

"We will have to go," Marius said, though ballets put him to sleep as a child and he did not suspect much had changed. "After we are married, I shall take you."

Cosette smiled. "That sounds lovely."

"I would be happy to take you next week," Grandfather said.

Cosette set her teacup down on the plate with a satisfying clink. "I think it would be lovely to go with my husband."

"Ah, yes," Grandfather said. "Newlyweds!"

As he talked, Cosette tried to catch Marius' eye. He ate a sandwich instead, not knowing how to tell her he had been unable to fulfill the task she'd asked of him. He kicked himself for not taking advantage of the opportunity to write, and decided to complete the letter that night.

He would tell her how much he loved her and briefly describe the basics, before focusing on the emotion of it all. Loving her, becoming one, et cetera. Perfect.

By the time she and her father were leaving, Marius had not had a moment alone with her all day. He grasped her hand farewell, as usual, and kissed her on the forehead. With her father standing by he was unable to speak freely, but looked meaningfully at her, hoping she understood. She shot him a coy smile, fastened her hat and left.

* * *

Later on, Marius was dressing for dinner. He sat down on his bed to tie his boots when he looked at the naked bedside table.

His heart stopped.

The letter had been there last night - he'd set it down, right there! - and now it was gone. In a flash, he was rummaging through the draws, looking under the bed, behind the headboard, in his desk. It was nowhere to be found.

Marius scrambled out of his bedroom. He was half-terrified to ask after the letter, in case anyone had read it, but where else could it be? Besides, if someone _had_ read it, they probably would have left it where it was, being ashamed to do anything else.

He found Nicolette in the kitchen, slicing bread thin to go with the soup.

"Monsieur Marius," she said. "Dinner is ready in twenty minutes. You'll have to wait until then."

"It's not that," he asked. He was sweating under his collar. "There was, er - a letter on my bedside table. It's not there."

"Oh, yes," the housekeeper said, tasting a bit of the soup on her finger. Apparently it needed something, for she began rummaging through the spice rack.

Marius fumed for a moment before pressing on. "Well... where is it?"

"I saw it was addressed to Mademoiselle Fauchelevent," she said, sprinkling pepper onto the top of the soup. "Oh, don't worry. I didn't read it! I gave it to her on her way out. It's not my place to say, but I find the two of you so adorable. She's the sweetest young lady isn't she? And the way I see you dote on her!"

Nicolette turned to look at Marius, but he was gone.

* * *

 **Reviews are lovely, please! New series. I like this one :)**


	3. Cosette's Apartment

By the time Marius arrived at Cosette's door, he was terribly out of breath. The cold air burned his lungs so that every time he inhaled deeply, he felt a sharp pain and had to cough. His pant legs were wet at the bottoms - and this was his good suit!

Before he knocked on the door, he took a moment to breath and wipe his sweaty brow. Did he demand the letter back? What if her father was upset that they were exchanging letters?

His stomach swooped in panic. What if her father demanded to know what the letter said?

Traffic clambered behind him. It was dark, and cold, and any second Cosette might read that profane letter. He closed is eyes and rubbed his nose. _Damn it,_ he thought. _How could I have been so careless?_

This had the potential to destroy everything. He wanted to go home and fire Nicolette, but what good would that do? If he lost Cosette, firing the housekeeper would not come close to making him feel any better.

Their apartment was on the second floor. When she lived in the house on Rue Plumet, he could have tapped on her window or gone into the garden. But now all he could do was knock on the door and get the porter's attention, or perhaps throw a rock. With a sigh, he leaned on his arm against the doorframe.

Unfortunately, when he leaned, he pressed his arm against the doorbell. Swearing, Marius stepped back and adjusted his clothing, looking around as if plotting escape. Before he could decide if it was better to run or stay, the porter opened the door.

"Ah, Monsieur Pontmercy," he said, recognizing Marius as a good porter is wont to do, even though Marius had only visited a handful of times. "Monsieur and Mademoiselle got in an hour ago. I will ring them."

"No-"

But the porter was gone.

Marius stepped inside to get out of the wind, and closed the door behind him. The porter returned, signaling Marius could go upstairs.

He dragged his feet on every dilapidated stair, until he reached the old landing in the building Cosette lived now. The floorboards had lost their varnish, and the entire place held a moldy smell like it had gotten wet and never dried properly. Marius hated this place, and wondered every time why Monsieur Fauchelevent, who could afford such a house in the Rue Plumet, and Cosette's enormous dowry, chose this place. He was a humble man, but this was over the line, and it made Marius - with his certain habits - uncomfortable.

The door was open and Toussaint stood by, apron on, hair messy as if she had been standing above a steaming pot. "Monsieur Pontmercy, what a surprise."

"Madame Toussaint." Marius removed his hat and bowed to the short old woman. He was sweating and hoped that his many layers of clothing hid that fact.

"You understand I can't let you in," she said with a gleam in her eye. Toussaint always made Marius feel as if he had done something wrong.

"Why is that?"

She looked to her left and right for an eavesdropper. "Monsieur is not home."

Marius stepped closer upon hearing her whisper.

"You mustn't make me say it twice," Toussaint whispered. "Burglars could be nearby, and it's just..." she lowered her voice to a near-indiscernable decibel. "It's only Mademoiselle and I here!"

"Madame, you needn't worry," Marius said, heart picking up speed. Monsieur Fauchelevent was not here! He was saved.

Unless Monsieur had already read the letter and was on his way to the Gillenormond house to murder Marius. This was possible.

"Madame, please, let me see Mademoiselle for just a moment. I must speak with her."

"I can't let you in, it's not proper."

"Madame." Marius gave her a look as if to say, "don't you trust me?" Toussaint stood up straighter, as if saying a hearty, "No!"

"If you are worried about burglars," Marius tried a new tactic, "I would be happy to stay nearby."

"I know young men," she said with a finger wag. "You only want to flirt with my mistress, and I can't let you in!"

"With all due respect, she will be my wife in a few weeks. I'm hardly philandering." If only she knew! "I just want to talk to her."

"Toussaint, who is at the door?"

Marius' ears perked up like spaniel. Cosette! Her voice floated through the open door.

"Cosette, it's me!" he called.

"Don't shout!" Toussaint scolded him.

"Oh, Marius, what are you doing here?" She sounded preoccupied.

Marius waited for her to come to the door, but she did not. Toussaint looked inside, and then stepped further into the doorway.

"I cannot let you in, Monsieur."

Marius nearly threw his hat. "And why not?"

"Mademoiselle is..." Toussaint blushed.

"What is it?"

"She's only in her night things, it's not appropriate."

"Oh, for God's sake," Marius said, feigning outrage, but now doubly intent on getting side. "Darling, is it alright if I come in?"

"Yes, of course, I'm in my dressing gown - honestly, Toussaint, I'm hardly indecent."

The old woman looked inside, where Cosette presumably was standing, and then at Marius. She took stock of him, and seemed to find him wanting, but nevertheless stepped aside.

"I have to finish up dinner," she said. "I'll be in the kitchen. Monsieur would insist you stay in the living room, so I must-"

"I know, of course," Marius said. "The living room."

She waved him inside, then waddled into the kitchen.

Cosette was sitting in an armchair. Her hair was loose and brushed away from her face, which beamed out from the locks like a shining pearl just facing the sun for the first time. Her eyes seemed even larger when surrounded by tumbling curls, set into her luminous skin with such perfection that God must have sat back in satisfaction when he'd made her. Dressed in all white, Marius' heart skipped a beat. Her long neck emerged from a lace nightgown, with a long robe over her shoulders, untied at the waist. For a moment, he forgot what he had come for, and was lost in appreciation of her beauty.

"My love," Cosette said, blushing under his gaze.

Marius shook his head. "I'm sorry. You're so beautiful."

She looked down, blushing, and then resumed her gaze with a questioning look. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes." He pressed his hands together and pointed to her. "Nicolette gave you a letter."

Cosette shushed him. Marius looked around, but no one was there.

"Sorry," she said, red in the face. "I'm nervous. Come, sit next to me. Yes, she did, and I haven't had a chance to read it."

He crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite hers. They both split the fireplace. He noticed the flames for the first time and reached out to warm his hands.

"Cosette, you weren't meant to receive that letter. I wrote it last night and it was a mistake."

Her eyebrows formed a straight line. "Mistake?"

"I tried to write... what you asked me." He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. "But, Cosette, you don't understand - it was impossible."

He hid his face.

"I got carried away!"

"Carried away?" She touched his arm with her little hand. He looked down and took it in his own, kissing each of her fingers.

"It's not good for you," he said. "I don't want you to read it. I wrote it and thought of how much I love you and, Cosette, it's not a good thing to read as your..." his ears turned very red, "first impression."

She blushed. "Marius, I should think if you wrote something out of love for me, then it would be exactly right."

A little part of him melted at that - she always said the sweetest yet wisest things! - but he brushed it off. "Yes, Cosette, I wrote it out of love, but also... lust."

He coughed.

Cosette looked confused. "Lust for me?"

He nodded.

She leaned back in her chair, a strange look on her face. He waited in agony for her to speak while she looked at the fire, and then back at him, and then at the ceiling. She shook her head, eyes wide.

Marius couldn't take it anymore. "What _is_ it?"

Cosette let out a little laugh, and then beckoned him closer. He leaned in.

" _Closer,"_ she said. She was blushing now, too, but seemed excited to tell him something.

"What is it, love?" he asked.

" _Lust,_ " she said. "I finally understand! That is the word I have been missing."

He didn't know what to say.

She explained. "I know I have been feeling something, and I didn't understand. You just gave me the word. It's lust."

He leaned back. She took his hands and pulled him back toward her, and then placed a cool palm on his neck. He nearly trembled with the desire to pull her onto his lap.

"My love," she whispered. "Will you teach me the rest?"

"I will," he promised. "But not like I did in that letter. My love, it's too much, it will put you off."

"Nothing you say can put me off," she said. "And I want to know."

"I know you do," he said. "But I don't want you to find out like this. Please, understand. I never meant for you to read it. Nicolette found it and gave it to you without reading it. I'm only lucky you haven't read it yet. Cosette, _cherie,_ believe me when I say this isn't the way for you to be introduced to it."

"To what?" she asked.

Marius looked into her eyes and saw, to his astonishment, that she was playing with him. Her eyes were dark with desire, and her mouth slightly open. Again, he was hard.

"You want me to say it?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered. Her breath touched his face.

"Sex," he said softly. "Love making. I want you to learn about it in another way. You deserve a better way."

A roll of modesty must have hit her, for she sat back and resumed her practical manner.

"Then, let's get that letter, shall we?"

"Really?" he asked, watching her tie her robe closed.

"Yes," she said. "If you say it is best, then I believe you. I will give it back to you, because I do not trust myself not to read it unless it's in your hands."

"Or burn it," Marius said.

Cosette laughed and stood. "Come," she said, reaching a hand out. He sat, puzzled, in his chair. She beckoned him toward a door at the edge of the living room. " _Come_ ," she said again, laughing. "Do you want the letter, or not?"

Marius, mouth open and baffling, followed Cosette into her bedroom.

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 **Please, please, review!**


	4. Confessions

Cosette's bedroom was small and clean. The walls were scrubbed and white. The bed was thin but looked comfortable, and sat in the center of the room with a white lace comforter. A dressing table with a porcelain pitcher was in one corner. Feminine knickknacks were all in their place on the shelves of the table. Marius walked over to it and lightly touched the silverbacked hand mirror. A bottle of perfume (he knew the smell from memory) sat next to it, and a string of pearls was slung over the handle of one of the drawers, beautifully casual, like she'd just taken them off.

The door clicked shut. Marius turned.

"Darling, I think we should keep it open," he said. "Your father—"

"My father isn't home," Cosette said.

"Madame Toussaint is here, she will tell him," Marius said. The truth was he didn't trust himself in here, with her alone. Though they were alone all those nights in her garden, something about being indoors – in a bedroom, no less – seemed far more intimate. "Cosette, dear, please."

She looked away from him. He caught a hint of childlike obstinacy. It occurred to him that Cosette, sweet though she might be, was quite used to getting her own way. With only her father, there was little for them to disagree about, and Marius knew Cosette's tastes to be mostly unobtrusive. The only rebellious thing she'd ever done was meet him, and now here they were, betrothed.

She was ignoring his protests, and it bothered him.

He coughed and tried to sound stern. "Cosette."

She met his eyes. "My father trusts you. He likes you, and tells me all the time. He thinks Toussaint is a nervous woman, and we both know she is. He'll believe anything I say over her."

Marius narrowed his eyes. "What is this all about?"

She crossed the room and sat on her bed, back to him. She patted the space next to her, and invitation. He did not hesitate long, but left a few inches between them.

"Cosette, where is the letter?"

She opened a box with mother-of-pearl inlay and handed it to him. He gripped it, but she held on.

"Oh, Marius, please let me read it." Tugging it back toward her, she looked at him with desperation.

"I said no, Cosette," Marius said. He was a bit astonished at her behavior, and began to sweat under his collar. He needed that letter back, and needed it before her father came home. "Give me the letter!"

Cosette stared at him for a long moment before, to his horror, she dissolved into tears.

"Oh, God," Marius said. "What's the matter?"

"You don't understand!" She buried her face in her hands. Marius watched as her loose hair fell, obscuring her from view. With a tentative hand, he touched the top of her head.

"What don't I understand?" he whispered, hoping to calm her.

"Or… I don't understand." She looked up and wiped her eyes. They were red-rimmed and looked sensitive. They made him want to turn down the lamps. She straightened herself up. "Marius, I don't know what's happening to me. I've never felt like this. I'm plagued by…" She shook her head. "I can't."

"Please." Marius became aware that this was in fact their first disagreement. "Tell me."

She shook her head. "Oh, God, Marius I feel wicked all the time. I don't even know why."

As her cries turned to sobs, Marius wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head against his chest. First, to comfort her, but also to muffle the sound so Toussaint would not barge into the room.

"My love, please, please tell me why you are crying."

She looked up at him. Her upper lip shined. Marius took his thumb and wiped her tears.

"Marius." She looked very frightened. He saw her open her mouth and try to form words, making no sound for a few seconds. "May I speak freely?"

"Whatever do you mean? I thought we were always honest with each other."

She flushed. "There's things we don't say. That aren't proper to say."

"And you're scared to tell me why you're upset."

She nodded.

Marius sighed and put his arm back around her. She leaned against his chest, and he kissed her head. "Tell me, Cosette. It's alright. You can always speak freely with me."

"It's not ladylike, I fear."

"We aren't like most men and women," he said. "We have love. It's different. Speak to me, Cosette, please."

She breathed deeply. Marius was glad she was looking away from him. Though he was eager to hear what she had to say, he sensed it would be difficult if they were facing each other.

"You don't know what it's like, Marius. I love you so much sometimes it frightens me. No, it _pains_ me. I lay awake at night and miss you so terribly it hurts. The other day I thought about putting on a cloak and catching a fiacre to your place. I was going to sneak in somehow and crawl into your bed."

Marius tightened his arms around her. He didn't interrupt. Her muscles were tense, like an animal braced to run away. But she kept on, in a voice that rushed and slowed, fueled by emotion.

"The trouble is I don't know what it is I want. I have these… dreams." She hid her face. "Of us together. Do you understand?"

His voice was husky. "Yes."

"But they stop short. It's as if my body knows what it wants but I don't… I dream of us kissing, touching. I dream about skin…"

He held her tighter.

"Then I wake up in _agony._ It's like fire, everywhere, and all I can think of is how badly I want you. Marius you don't understand what it's like, not to know. I'm trapped all the time in my desire. People think that because young girls don't know things, we don't feel them. Well, maybe other girls don't." Her lip trembled. It was red as a rose from all the chewing she'd done; he could see a bit of skin she'd cut open and a droplet of blood. "You must think I'm very wicked. It's because I love you, that's why I'm different. Oh, Marius, I can't even imagine what will come – I feel if I could imagine it, I could wait easier. Play it in my head, maybe. Oh God, this is humiliating. But I think of you all the time, until I'm near tears. God, if only you knew how much I love you!"

When she hid her face once more, and Marius felt her shoulders shake, he sighed. For the first time in days, his carnal desires ebbed and he felt nothing but love and protectiveness. Something had shifted, because his first instinct was not to offer slight strokes, but to pull her into his lap, like a wife.

She hesitated, but obeyed his touch. A rush of relief came over her. He cradled her and she pressed her face against his neck while he whispered soothing words.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "You aren't wicked, Cosette. I feel all of those things. Every one. And every night I fight the urge to come to you."

"But you are a man," she said. "It's different."

"Maybe it isn't," he said. He knew from Courfeyrac that women felt pleasure too, if the man did it right. It followed that they should feel desire. He knew how many women were shipped off to marry older men. Now that he knew a woman as well as he knew Cosette, he could infer about the delicateness of some young girls, and how frightened they must be of strange men. No surprise that there was no desire there. But for this girl, who adored him… He swelled with pride, knowing that he had inspired this within her.

"Marius, may I read the letter?"

"No, Cosette," he said. "It's not good for you. You're still so innocent – and this letter is not innocent."

She looked up. "You keep saying how pure and innocent I am. Well, maybe I am untouched, Marius, but I am still a woman. I think I would understand your desire."

His cheeks were hot. "Cosette, I'm not giving it to you. You can read it after the wedding."

Immediately her face brightened in surprise, and he knew she hadn't expected him to give her the letter at all.

"After we've been together, perhaps. But not now. Trust me when I say it's a terrible first impression. I wrote it for myself… it's a fantasy, love, I was imagining you and I together. But it's too rough, too dirty. It's not good for you now."

She pouted, but had to hide her face. Something had happened within her body at his words – he was having too dirty a fantasy about her? It frightened and excited her. Marius, sweet, seraphic Marius, having naughty thoughts? About her? Cosette always felt like a bit of a child and hated it. How wonderful to have someone desire her as a woman.

Marius kissed her forehead. "I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?"

So he began. With her still on his lap, he directed her head onto his shoulder so he didn't have to look in her eyes, and explained. He told her about how their bodies were different – she'd seen young boys in the convent, orphan children – and explains how it worked. He told her how they'd kiss and undress and how and where he would touch her.

"That's what you want, when you feel that way," he explained. "You want me to touch you."

"Yes." She was breathless.

He was amazed at how controlled he felt. Even with her warm weight on him, he was able to contain himself, unlike the other night when he'd acted so brash. Something about her emotion had moved him, and he needed her to know. Cosette had always been more than woman to him, she'd been an angel and a friend all at once, and he needed her to feel safe going into their marriage.

"It may hurt you the first time," he said. "Can you understand why?"

She nodded. This time it was too much for her to speak.

"It may hurt a lot. I don't know." His voice was tight. "I wish it were me that hurt."

Her fingers brushed his cheek. "I know you do."

"It will get better," he promised. "You'll enjoy it, and you'll want it more and more."

"I already want it," she whispered. "I don't mind some pain, Marius, if it means being yours."

Marius let out a tiny groan. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her smooth neck. A rush of air left her chest, where she had been holding her breath. He kissed up and down her neck, and then reached his tongue out and licked the sweet skin. She let out a tiny feminine sigh, and then all the control Marius had previously fell away. He gripped her body to him, conscious of his erection against her leg – and now she knew exactly what it was. That thrilled him. Her skin was so pale and delicate, especially on her neck, and he was careful not to leave a mark. He'd seen them on Courfeyrac's mistresses and would never sully Cosette that way. But he couldn't resist brushing his teeth just beneath her ear. She shivered and gasped his name, digging her fingers into his back.

"Marius… Marius…" She gasped, and then coughed, and tapped his shoulder. "Marius."

It was almost a scold. He pulled away from her.

"We should stop." Her face was flushed and luminous. The sight of her made Marius lean forward once more and kiss her again. She groaned, and then pulled away, raising an eyebrow.

"Now you're stopping me?" he teased.

"You've told me what I need for now," she said. "And I am a proper girl, after all."

It was his turn to flush. "I'm sorry love."

"We've both been carried away."

"Yes," he said. "I won't test you again. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," she said. "As you said, we are different. I almost feel already married."

She looked up, searching for his reaction.

"Ah—no," Marius said, smiling. He gently pushed her from his lap and stood. "Perhaps we feel married, but that isn't good enough for me. We're going to be good and married before I take you to my bed."

Did he catch a hint of a pout on her face?

"Cosette. Come now. You are so much more than this."

"I wish we were marrying tomorrow."

"I wish we were already married," he said. "But we have only a month, love. And then…."

She brightened. "Yes."

Once more before leaving, he pulled her to him. "You are so much softer without a corset. I like it."

"Then feel, because this is your last chance for a month." She melted into him while he ran his hands over her back.

They pulled apart and nodded at each other. Cosette stood straighter and no longer blushed. Retrieving his hat from the rumpled bed, Marius fixed his coat and took a long look at his beautiful fiancée in her white dressing gown. Soon, she would be his. She was looking at him now with a resolute gaze, full of desire and without fear. When she crossed the room, he watched her walk with authority that she had not had even an hour before. Her white hand was cool against his lips, and he watched the regal way she offered it to him while she saw him out. Something in the way she dismissed him suggested a change in dynamics, as if she was once again the master of their love affair, or perhaps something better: his partner, his wife, a woman.

Bidding him goodbye, Cosette raised an arm and watched the man who would so soon be her husband go.

When her father returned later that night, Cosette found herself dreaming of the household she would run in a few short weeks. The world of womanhood held so much more than being someone's daughter. Especially being Marius' wife. As she readied herself for bed, she thought of how nice it will be, not to be a little girl.

* * *

 **Please review! If you took the time to read, I'd really appreciate a bit of feedback. Thank you so much!**


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